


Shotgun Kisses

by Eriakit



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Marijuana, Medicinal Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriakit/pseuds/Eriakit
Summary: “Curious?”It was like the man could read his thoughts. “Of course I am. That’s my curse, isn’t it?”





	Shotgun Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragomir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/gifts).



> I'm not tagging this as dubcon because both parties are Entirely Here For It but one of them is also high af and the other one is at least very strongly buzzed, so if that's gonna bother you turn back now.

 

Jacob sprawls out on his end of the couch, watching with an idle sort of interest as Roth rolls a few more joints. Jacob had never tried weed, or anything else except alcohol, and that only a little. Ethan Frye’s rules had been strict, and Evie had kept most of them going after he’d died. He doesn’t judge Max for it, though - hadn’t even  _ before _ learning he had been self-medicating his mania with it since the 80’s, and it was just about the only thing that  _ worked _ without fucking him up in some other way.

Max picks up one of the finished joints and sits back against his arm of the couch, sliding his legs up to tangle with Jacob’s. Jacob continues watching, letting himself get caught staring when Roth finally looks up from lighting the joint and meets his eyes with an arched eyebrow. Jacob wriggles in place a bit, feeling himself flush as Roth smirks at him, scooting his bare foot under Jacob’s hip casually as he does it.

They haven’t been  _ this, _ this more-than-friends, not-quite-lovers  _ thing, _ for very long, and Jacob still isn’t entirely used to the casual intimacies of it. He loves every second of it, though, every kiss and every invasion of his personal space and every sweet word from Max’s lips. He’d call this  _ dating _ except everything date-like that they do, the meals and the movies and the little gifts, they’d been doing since before Max kissed him at the Guy Fawkes bonfire.

Maybe they’d just been dating longer than Jacob had realized. Jacob is just glad that Roth doesn’t seem to care much about exact labels, unless it has to do with the which brand of weed he’s buying, which is apparently  _ important. _

Jacob is wrenched back to focusing on the present by the sight of Roth’s smirking lips pursing around the end of the joint. Jacob licks his lips, eyes hooding as he watches Max’s cheeks hollow and his eyes slide shut, before he leans his head back and Jacob’s attention shifts to the exposed column of his neck, covered in grey stubble. Jacob shifts his hips, his throat dry, wondering how long it will be before he’ll feel that stubble scraping roughly against more of his skin.

Max exhales, the pale smoke billowing out smoothly from his lips to float above them before the ceiling fan disperses it and it’s blown gently out the windows by the breeze. Jacob watches it for a moment, inhaling a bit deeper than he has to to catch the scent of it. He wonders if he’d start to feel a contact high if he and Roth were sitting closer.

“Curious?”

It was like the man could read his thoughts. Jacob laughs a little, more at the thought than the question. “Of course I am. That’s my curse, isn’t it?”

Max is looking at him again, and Jacob meets his gaze with a slow-blooming warmth in his chest. He stretches out the hand holding the joint, the end of it caught between two long fingers, dangling from a limp wrist and a bony elbow awkwardly perched on the couch-back. He bobs the fingers holding it, making the lit end flare a bit, forcing Jacob’s eyes to follow it. “Have a go, if you like.”

Jacob’s hand twitches, wanting, but then he shakes his head. “I don’t know how,” he mumbles, knowing his ears are going red by how hot they feel. He has always hated  _ not knowing. _

Roth chuckles at him, and Jacob lets out a soft noise of protest as those ridiculously long legs are pulled away from his own. Max shushes him, folding his legs under himself and bracing against the back of the couch as he knee-walks over the seat until he is, in effect, straddling Jacob’s lap. Jacob reaches up on instinct, fingers finding purchase at Max’s waist, hooking into the loose fabric of his shirt, littlest fingers tucking just barely into the edge of his jeans. Max’s free hand comes up to cup Jacob’s jaw, his thumb stroking over the soft, bare skin of his cheek. Jacob blushes at how Max’s eyes follow his own movement - he’d shaved _ just _ for that, the way Roth’s eyes alway caught on him when he was barefaced, the appreciative hum. The sideburns would grow back, he’d reasoned, and if it got Max to lean forward like  _ this, _ to make that quiet little sound, to pet over the exposed skin and make Jacob feel so  _ cared for, _ then he can put up with a couple of days of being teased for looking all of fourteen by the guys at work.

Max hums again, then clears his throat, meeting Jacob’s eyes as his thumb continues to stroke Jacob’s cheek - back and forth, back and forth. Jacob can’t help but lean into it, press his face against Max’s hand until that thumb returns pressure, pushing his cheek into his teeth. Jacob lets his mouth fall open slightly, and Max sighs contentedly as his thumb slides over further, brushing over Jacob’s bottom lip and pressing down to make him open a bit wider.

Jacob feels so  _ warm. _

“Ready, darling?”

Jacob nods as best he can, held like this. He isn’t sure just what he’s agreeing  _ to, _ exactly, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with Max, and his open mouth, and possibly the weed, and nothing he can think of sounds like a bad idea just now. He can’t think of anything he  _ wouldn’t _ agree to, right now, with Max settling more firmly into his lap and the smell of him and the weed making Jacob’s head muzzy.

Max grins at him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide. “Breathe in when I breathe out,” he mutters, and then lifts the joint to take a long, hard drag off of it. Jacob’s eyes widen as he moves down towards him, bending to brush his mouth to Jacob’s, and then hot smoke is being blown past Jacob’s tongue, and his breath hitches before he manages to breathe in shakily. The smoke is  _ so warm _ in his throat, all the way down to his lungs, and Jacob focuses on that feeling so much he nearly misses the kisses Max is gently pressing into the corners of his mouth, until he’s nipped, sharply. He startles, exhaling without really choosing to, and his view of Max’s face is obscured by the smoke for a brief second before it, too, is drawn up by the fan and out the window.

The world feels foggy, even after the smoke passes, and warm, and soft, and it’s narrowed down entirely to those sensations and the smell of sweet-smoke and  _ Max. _ But… he’d liked that. Their faces are still too close, not quite kissing but also not quite  _ not, _ and Jacob likes that, too.

He moves his hands up from Max’s sides to his chest and then curls his fingers into his shirt again, not pulling him forward but not pushing him away, either. Max lets his forehead rest against Jacob’s, and Jacob nuzzles up at him and wriggles a bit further down the couch. Max chuckles at him, moving with him and wedging a knee between Jacob’s thighs, sliding his other leg there beside it when Jacob lets one leg fall off the couch to make room, keeping his thigh pressed to Max’s side by arching his foot so all that touches the floor are his toes.

Jacob’s head is braced by the couch arm, now, and the rest of him is braced by Max’s presence looming over and around him. It makes him brave, and he  _ had _ liked it, so he nudges Max back a bit with his nose and murmurs: “More?”

Max draws back even further, and tightens his grip on Jacob’s face where he’d let it go lax. His eyes are so dark, now, and Jacob wants more  _ more _ than just the smoke, but that can be enough for now. Jacob licks over his lips, catching Max’s thumb with the tip of his tongue, and shivers at the salt-taste of his skin. Max shivers too, and his fingers press harder, just on the edge of hurting.

He takes another drag, and Jacob’s ready this time when Max’s mouth is pressed to his and hot smoke pours out into his mouth. He pulls it into his lungs, the idea that he’s  _ taking Max’s breath away _ catching at the edge of his mind and instead of making him laugh, his chest feels tighter for it. It’s silly - but Max does it to him often enough, he should get to do it  _ back. _

Max’s tongue slides over his as Jacob holds his breath, and Jacob just manages to avoid letting his breath go. He clings to Max, instead, hands bunching into fists and the leg pinned against the back of the couch hooking up over Max’s hip. Even his  _ toes _ grab hold, trying to curl into the fabric of Max’s jeans as Max kisses, and kisses, and  _ kisses _ , until Jacob’s head is spinning and he finally remembers to breathe out, so he can breathe  _ in _ again.

He lets it out into their kiss, and he loves the way the smoke makes Max taste. He loves the way Max makes the smoke taste.

Max does it again, and again, and again, and Jacob loses track of how many breaths they’ve shared. It all just  _ blends, _ each one bleeding into the next as they both get messier with it, Max barely even turning his head away for the last one before he flicks the remainders of another joint onto the coffee table before he’s back at Jacob’s mouth. It feels less and less like they’re sharing  _ smoke _ and more like they’re sharing  _ each other, _ breathing each other in.

Jacob feels lightheaded, and doesn’t know where it’s from the weed and where it’s from Max around him, over him,  _ inside  _ him. He wishes more of Max were inside him, and says so when Max pulls back to kiss down his throat. Max laughs at him, calling him a lightweight with enough affection that Jacob just grins at him and nods, and then shuts him up with more kisses.

Max is so close to him, even though he hasn’t gotten another - a third? A forth? - joint and they aren’t breathing into each other’s lungs anymore. Max had said, at some point in the kissing and the smoke and the heat, that he’s too lazy to find where the lighter went - Jacob can’t quite remember when he’d said that, but he knows he  _ did. _ But he doesn’t  _ feel _ very lazy as he rocks between Jacob’s legs.

They’re grinding together, Jacob would say  _ softly  _ except he knows he’s holding on too hard, and he thinks there might be little fingertip-shaped bruises on his jaw tomorrow. But it  _ feels _ soft, it feels gentle, and easy, and he wishes he could figure out how to get his hands to let go of Max’s shirt to reach down and undo their jeans - he knows, somehow, that this would all feel so much  _ better _ if they weren’t wearing them. It still feels wonderful, though, and he says as much, forgetting he makes no sense with Max’s tongue in his mouth. Max growls back at him, pressing down harder, and suddenly it’s  _ too _ good, and Jacob humps up against him desperately a handful of times, Max’s hands reaching down to grab his ass and drag him up tighter against him, until he breaks with a cry.

Max pulls back from his mouth, then. Jacob wishes he hadn’t and whines at him, nuzzling up under Max’s chin, panting with aftershocks against his throat.

“Fuck, Jacob,” Max grits out, and Jacob nods happily against his skin, because  _ yes,  _ that sounds  _ lovely. _ “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to -” Jacob sinks his teeth into where he’d been nuzzling, because he doesn’t see any need for Max to apologize and biting him  _ always _ shuts him up. “-  _ God. _ Do that again, darling.”

Jacob does, biting and sucking until Max shudders above him, against him, and it grows even warmer between them as he cries out brokenly. Jacob moans, wishing he was a bit clearer-headed because he has a feeling he won’t be able to remember the  _ exact _ way Max’s voice had broken, later. But that’s alright, too, because he can just make him do it  _ again. _

“You’d better,” Max whispers, and Jacob starts, because he hadn’t known he’d said that outloud. “I didn’t think you had. Shit, please don’t be mad at me when you come out of it, darling.”

Jacob peels himself muzzily back from the warmth and headiness of Max’s neck, blinking at him in confusion. Max looks sad, and worried, and Jacob wants to kiss him until he stops looking like that, but first he has to ask, because he’s always been cursed with being curious and he has to  _ know. _ “Why would I be mad? Wanted you to touch me for  _ months.” _

Max’s breath hitches. “We’ve only been together a month, if that, Jacob.”

_ “Months,” _ Jacob says again, because it’s true, but then he remembers that Max didn’t know that, before, that he hadn’t been  _ going _ to tell him that. “Oops.”

Max is smiling now, though, and it’s the same sort of slow, drawn-out, deeply happy smile he’d had before he kissed Jacob next to the bonfire, so Jacob shoves his way back under Max’s chin and enjoys it as the foggy, warm, cushiony feeling in his head gets even thicker. Max is on top of him, mostly, better than a blanket, and what he isn’t on top of his hands are all over. It feels nice, it feels  _ better _ than nice, and Jacob rolls his whole body up against him just to feel more of it.

It makes Max laugh and mutter “lightweight” again, but then he’s kissing the top of Jacob’s head, so Jacob just nods again, sleepy with the weight in his mind, and kisses at what he can reach until he loses track of time, and kisses, and everything else.

 

***

 

He wakes up chilly, and a little high still, but sober enough to know it. Sober enough to wince and cringe at the feeling in his drawers, too, and then blush bright red all over as he remembers how that feeling got there. Max shifts above him, and then props himself up on his elbows, braced on Jacob’s shoulders, to look down at him.

“Am I allowed to stop being a blanket, now?”, Max asks playfully, and Jacob suddenly wonders, painfully, just how much he’d said out loud in the middle of all of that, instead of thinking it safely in his own mind. He remembers Max answering him a lot more than he should have.

They’re still tangled, Max’s longer legs stretching past Jacob’s feet. Jacob doesn’t remember getting his other leg back up on the couch and grins at the image of Max hauling it up with them while Jacob slept, dead to the world. It makes his blush worse, but it also makes his heart thud heavier in his chest, and his belly clench. He stretches up and kisses Max’s chin, making the older man laugh at him.

“Are you  _ still _ feeling it? You slept for hours.” He sounds so fondly amused that it’s a shock when his next words sound so serious. “I hope you’re not angry with me, dear boy.”

Jacob promptly bites the skin he’d just kissed - it’s less of a scold than he intended, he thinks, since Max’s hips rock forward a little against his at the feeling of sharp teeth over stubbled skin. But that’s alright, too. “Why would I be angry with you?” he mutters, finding another place to nip at. Now that he thinks he might be allowed this, he never wants to stop. He pauses as he remembers just what he’d told Max, earlier. He’s never going to get the blush to go away at this point, but at least he’s already  _ said _ it. “Thought we cleared this up already.”

Suddenly, Max’s hand is his hair, fingers closing tight to tug him solidly away from Max’s jaw. Jacob wants to protest the removal of his new favorite thing, already missing the bristle of Max’s stubble against his lips, but he moans at the pull on his scalp instead. Max is still, above him, not moving at all, and Jacob opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing to look up at him hopefully. But Max looks halfway between poleaxed and intrigued, so Jacob doesn’t think he’ll have to wait for long for more. His head is feeling clearer by the minute, too, so any worries Max might have there should be soothed, if he asks.

He doesn’t ask any of the questions Jacob is expecting. Instead, he asks, simply: “Months?”

Jacobs breath hitches, and he’s caught, he’s caught in every way a person can be caught, underneath Max. But he  _ likes _ it. He writhes in place, earning himself more weight pressed onto his hips. He can’t nod, so he licks his lips and swallows, moving enough moisture around his mouth for one word. 

“Yep.”   
  
Max laughs at him. “You made me wait, you brat,” he mutters, and Jacob thinks he might know where this is going, and it makes him grin. “I’ve half a mind to punish you for that.”

Jacob bucks up against him, dragging out as much contact as he can between them and sliding his arms around Max’s waist to drag the man down with him when he relaxes.

They get their jeans off this time, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Things I want you to know but didn't fit in the fic:  
> -This is the furthest Jacob's gone, sexually, with anyone, but also doesn't much give a shit about v-cards and such  
> -Roth has his head bent at funny/uncomfortable angles 99% of the time Jacob has his face in his neck, and suffers happily  
> -Roth should stop making fun of Jacob for being a lightweight because he's got The Good Shit  
> -But seriously Jacob Frye is definitely a fucking lightweight when it comes to weed
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
